Early Life Of Mark Sloan
by Kriticasm
Summary: 10-year-old Mark Sloan was brought up in a million dollar mansion, but with an emotionally detached family. He was soon noticed by Carolyn Shepherd, Derek's mom while sneaking through the window of Shepherd house - and hence began Mark's journey - from a kid to a successful plastic surgeon attending. All of his early life - from discovering himself to people he met along the way
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Before I begin, I'd like to make a few things clear about this Grey's Anatomy's prequel fanfiction. I am a loyal viewer of this show, and I've been utterly disappointed at how things are taking turns in the original plot. Writers have cut off some of the best characters over seasons. Though, I'm not entirely blaming them. Most of the celebrities have quit this show on to their own – But writers could've ended their exits in a different way.**

 **So, I've had enough. I keep groping for answers for what would've been Lexie and Izzie's specialty, what would've George O'Malley's life in NAVY been like? What would've Teddy Altman done after leaving Seattle while mourning for her husband's death? And most of all, what was Mark Sloan's actual life story? - We all know him as a sassy ladies' man and an impeccable surgeon, but, how did he find his way through life?**

 **So I decided to write about Mark Everett Sloan's former life story – from his childhood journey – all the way to a med school – and then as an attending.**

 **I hope you guys will understand what's going on in my mind while you read. I am drawn to this fandom and it truly consumed me. Mind you – I am not a professional writer. I am just a fangirl who pours down her imaginations and emotions in sentences. I accept suggestions, criticism and collaborations, ofcourse.**

 **You all already know looks and appearances of main characters – Mark, Derek, Amelia. For other characters, I've written down few celebrity names so that you can imagine them better.**

 _Eric Dane as Mark Sloan  
Patrick Dempsey as Derek Shepherd  
Caterina Scorsone as Amelia Shepherd (Derek's sister #1)  
Paul Johansson as Victor Sloan (Mark's Dad)  
Marcia Cross as Veronica Sloan (Mark's Mom)  
George Segal as Maddox Van De Kamp (Mark's maternal grandpa)  
Viola Davis as Augusta Bush (Sloan mansion's appointed maid)  
Lucy Hale as Liz Shepherd (Derek's sister #2)  
Hayley Orrantia as Nancy Shepherd (Derek's sister #3)  
Ashley Rickards as Kathleen (Kate) Shepherd (Derek's sister #4)  
David Thewlis as Thomas Shepherd (Derek's dad)  
Natalia Tena as Carolyn Shepherd (Derek's mom)_

-

CHAPTER – 1

"How many times do I have to tell you this?" Victor yelled, loud enough to shake down the entire Sloan mansion - "Get Mad out of my house, or _I_ will"

"He is sick, don't you see? He needs help, as much as _we_ can provide." Veronica replied, persuasively.

" _So can_ an old age home" he started "that old hag has got no purpose being here anymore, if he cannot get me any more money"

"Do you _hear_ yourself, Victor?"

"You should hear _yourself_ , Ronica. Your husband's company has lost another account. Do you even _care_?"

Veronica's cheeks turned red.

"You want me to care, _just after_ you took a huge dump on my father? Wow."

"Well, I wasn't the one who asked him to move in, did I?" he interjected, taking a long sip of scotch from a bottle. His voice was slurry and unclear. "Why don't you do _me_ a favor? Get the hell out of my house, both of you."

"Gladly. After I kill you myself."  
Veronica Sloan's anger had suddenly risen to a whole new level. Her feet started tapping that mahogany wooden floor even faster now. She could feel the tip of her ears burn. Every disagreement, every fight had a limit. Her husband seemed to cross them all, every time he got home from work.

Though, she was unaware of the reason why her marriage was falling apart – maybe she never thought about it, much - given to her father's health and son's responsibilities, since Victor Sloan never bothered to participate.

If she needed to give him a piece of her mind, that would be _right now_.

"Listen _you_ -"  
She was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. It was Augusta.  
"Please let it go. Mr. Sloan is drunk, it's pointless"  
"It's none of your business, Augusta.  
"Mrs. Sloan, please. This will only make it worse."  
"Listen to your black puppet right there, Veronica. You might learn a thing or two" Victor replied.  
" _VICTOR!_ "

\- And so, the disagreement went on.

After a while of persuasion, Augusta finally managed to calm the storm that froze over the chaotic spouses again.

Victor had stormed off to bed, fast asleep.

Augusta, however, did what she ends up doing every night – pouring her boss a glass of neat whiskey and listening to her rants.

Veronica sat back on the kitchen counter and sighed, cradling her head in her hands.

Counter was a pure white marble slab, extended to the side wall, surrounded by tiny wooden chairs. Thinking – and thinking how worse can her night get.

"Augusta, I'm so sorry for today" she slowly spoke, in exasperation.

"It's okay Mrs. Sloan" Augusta replied in a comforting tone, whilst slowly folding a stack of microwave gloves. "You know how it is around Mr. Sloan now. All you need to do is take things calmly."

Veronica sighed. If there was a person who had a capability to understand her – It would be her maid.

"How do you even put up with me? With _us_?"

Augusta stood on the other side of the counter, wiping off wet plates now.

"I've been working here for almost 10 years now, Mrs. Sloan. Don't you think I've built up quite a resistance?"

They both slowly chuckled.

[30 MINUTES AGO]

"Why don't you do _me_ a favor? Get the hell out of my house, both of you."

Muffled voices of his parent's fight had started to rise. Just like every other night, Mark slowly closed his room's door, hoping it might lower the volume but it didn't do him any good.

He made another attempt by opening all the floor-to-wall glassed windows in his room.

No.

Again, no use.

To anyone's surprise, Mark's room was surprisingly large for a 10-year-old. Walls were painted grey, his favorite color. Marvel and DC's posters covering most of his bedside wall, action figures on his nightstand, bed sheets were satin, pillows were fluffy and large, drawers were full of his drawings, ofcourse, his mother and father together – only with sad faces.

On the right-corner of his room, there was a big velvet bulletin board, pinned with all his favorite pictures that he had drawn - Mark going out with Augusta for ice-cream,  
Sleeping next to his pop pop,  
Him with a stethoscope and a man lying on bed.

He walked out to his balcony. Frontal view from his room wasn't very viewable. Huge gardens and flowers stretched out before the mansion, ofcourse - but they were guarded by huge Victorian-styled brick walls, leaving no view of the world outside. No roads. No cars. No other houses.

He liked walking outside though, but what he particularly liked was staring through a window of the house in the end of the street. 'The Shepherds' written out front, by the porch.

That house seemed too small for a family of more than 5 members but it looked comfortable. Every evening when Mark ducked his head through it's window, he found it very amusing how a plump woman cooked for her folks while several children ran around the hall. Then came a man with several pudding packets for his children – the excitement on every kid's face (and on his own), and then how merrily everyone gathered in a large dining table for supper. Though, Mark drew attention to himself a couple of times, by losing his balance and tripping, but he ran away before anyone of them could step out.

Distant noises had stopped bothering him now. Perhaps it was over.  
He headed out in the hallway to kiss his pop pop goodnight, but to his surprise, grandpa Maddox was already lurking around the hall absent-mindedly.  
\- I guess he heard them fight, Mark thought to himself.

"Pop pop" he approached him. "Let's go, it's cold out here"

He slowly turned his wheelchair with his tiny white hands and lead it to his pop pop's room and slowly paused by bed-side.

"Let me help you" said little Mark, effortlessly cupping his back as his grandpa slowly got up to sit idly on bed before his knees could give out. "I am a strong man, you know"

To Mark's endearing remark, Maddox placed a kiss on his cheek as he stabilized his balance on bed. "Ofcourse you are, my little soldier" he said with his trembling old voice as he finally laid back.

"Pop pop, can I ask you something?" asked Mark, but without any more patience, he continued "Daddy doesn't like you, why?"

Maddox sighed and stroked little Mark's uncluttered brown hair.

"I am not that strong anymore now, darling" he continued "maybe this is why I cannot help your daddy and it makes him sad"

Mark slowly hopped onto bed and slithered under the sheets.  
He clutched to his pop pop's chest, as tightly as he could. "Don't worry, I will be a doctor someday and then I'll fix you. Everything will be okay. Mommy and daddy won't fight and they will love you, just as much as I do."

The dark night further stretched into a cold mist. Sky was clear, etched with stars and moonlight outshone every little shadow outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, this chapter is more dialogue-based this time. Most of you have messaged me to ask what's in store for Derek and Mark here – I'll get to that shortly, since, after a chapter, there will be a tiny time-jump.  
Also, I decided to make POV versions of characters this time because third-person doesn't seem to be descriptive enough, in my opinion.**

 **Thank you for reviews, but most of all, thanks for a dozen messages. I'm glad you guys find this plot interesting. Cheers.**

It was 9 PM. To a common neighbor's surprise, it was a pretty quiet evening in St. Caleb lane. Augusta had a night off, Veronica had taken Maddox to a routine checkup, leaving Mark with his dad, alone. She was doubtful of Victor's babysitting skills – ofcourse, even though it took her an hour of make-believe argument with him, till he finally gave in.

It was almost November. Cold wind blew against soft leaves that made them swing in a particular direction, making them dance while it could last.

"Is this checkup even necessary?" Maddox leaned back on the passenger seat of a ford sedan as they took off.

"Yes, dad" Veronica replied impatiently, tapping on steering wheel, her cherry red hair, damp from intense humidity inside the car. It was almost thanksgiving; traffic seemed way longer than they thought it would be. It had almost been 15 minutes, past their waiting. Wind had seemed to be flowing even faster now, given to cyclers and people walking down the sidewalks – several hair aggressively flowing in irksome directions. Most people clutched to themselves as they walked by.

"If reports are turning up fine, why are we still wasting a fortune on checkups? Is something wrong?" he crossed his arms against his V-neck sweater as he started "I'm not saying that you're not attentive, but this is _not very you_."

It didn't take much for Maddox to realize that something is up. He knew her well – he knew all his children well. So much for his paternal instincts – he definitely thought it was about Victor.

Ronica looked at her dad.

"No, dad – before you ask, nothing's wrong. I'm just-" she paused "being careful with everything. Can't I at least do that? I'm worried. –And as far as money is concerned, you don't need to worry about it. It's being taken care of. Okay? I'm being calm here, _so should you_."

"Tell me what you have to, Ronnie, but this isn't really the reason and I know it." He replied.

She looked at her dad, in a way to show him that she definitely disagreed. Something was stirring in her mind, ofcourse. Something uncertain – but it was like a paradox, like a bad decision – but it wasn't new, there had been several times when this thought process crossed her mind.

Next 35 minutes weren't very pleasant. Veronica had been tapping her feet aggressively, made her dad wonder if they hurt at all. Though traffic was still intact and weather wasn't helping much and her dad's aimed stares made her even more furious – disagreements, fights could have been one thing, but what really drove her nuts was that awkwardness in silence.

Over next 6 minutes _,_ She dropped her window-side glass as strong wind hit her face, making her cough a couple of times. She quickly ducked her head out and yelled "HEY YOU – WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STANDING THERE? GET BACK AND START DRIVING, THERE ARE PEOPLE WAITING. _COME ON_ , _MOVE IT!_ "

A hispanic man cursed her under his breath.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?" she hissed.

Maddox finally chuckled in a mocking tone, to which she turned back to reply "Not now, dad."

"See, this is what I was talking about." He continued to give her his legitimate explanation "You got all that perfect patience from your mom. Now Ronnie, don't go around preaching all that 'being careful, and calm' joke on me because I'm not buying it"

Veronica didn't reply. Her dad could never get tired of telling her all the gory details of her tolerance deficiency, and just like every other day, she, with dexterity, withdrew the need for participating in that conversation.

Victor ran fingers through his hair. His very brown with a hint of sandy-blonde hair – gracefully inherited from his mother. Thankfully, his son had the same kind, unlike Veronica. He never really liked red on boys anyway. It made them look so – well he didn't really come up with a word yet, but who cares about some stupid word.  
He rested back on his armchair, thinking. Groping ways to rant about his wife, who left him to do a – what it truly is a woman's work, while he could've been out in a bar, enjoying his drink in solace on a Sunday night. It was his first time trying to look after his 10-year-old. He didn't mind spending time with kids, but..

No.

Actually, he _did_ mind.

Kids.

Loud, annoying and –

 _Stupid_.

He observed the uncanny silence around him. He couldn't hear Mark. Maybe he fell asleep.

 _Ah, better_.

Maybe it wasn't a terrible night afterall.

Victor got up to refill his glass and caught a sight of Mark, standing by the door. By the looks of it, he probably would've been standing there for hours now, clutching a sheet of paper to his chest.

Victor stood in silence for a minute.

 _Okay Vic, relax. He isn't going to kill you_. He told himself

"Hi" he said flatly.  
"Hi" Mark replied.

Victor pointed to that piece of paper on his hands.

"What you got there?"

"A drawing"  
"Of what?"  
"You and mommy."  
Victor cleared his throat "Show me."

Mark looked at him, slightly startled and backing away in his tiny steps. His dad hadn't been very nice to him over the years. He can recall running back to his room every time Victor yelled at him to get out whilst his parent's fought.

"Come here" Victor called.

Mark managed to take slow and swift steps towards him, gulping as he reached. He held the paper up to his dad's tall lap.

He drew a woman with orange hair, sitting on a chair, a sad smile across her roughly drawn face shape, and a man with brown bottle on his hand with an angry face.

"What's this?" Victor asked.  
"That's you, daddy. Drinking your smoothie."  
"Smoothie?"  
"The one you were just drinking. Augusta told me that it gives you good energy"  
"Oh" Said Victor, still staring at the drawing.  
"And there's mommy"  
"Why is she sad? And why do I look angry?"  
"You both look like that."  
"Do we?"  
Mark nodded.

"Aren't you going to put it on refrigerator, daddy?"  
"Why?"  
"Augusta puts my drawings on refrigerator. She says that I'm a good drawer. I could be an artist someday, you know? Just like Picasso."  
"Yeah, but it can't go up there."  
"Why daddy?"  
"Because – err it isn't that good"

Mark's heart sank within a minute.

Victor sighed.

He went back to sit on his arm chair, trying to avoid eye contact with his son.

 _Why is he still looking at me?_ He wondered in awkwardness.

After a minute of irksome silence, he managed to get up, roaming across the hallway to find his coat.

"Stay here. Keep doors locked. I won't be long."

He said as he slammed the door, on the way out, leaving Mark standing right on the same spot.

Mark looked down on his drawing, tiny teardrops rolling down his drawing. He felt like a loser. He couldn't even impress his dad. Not long till he realized that could _never_ impress his dad.

He tore the sheet up aggressively and threw it on trash, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

It had been 10 PM now. Veronica and Maddox were on their way back, traffic seemed to be reduced to half now; but not completely dismissed.

"We'll just stop by at a drug store for your pills, first." Veronica said, coolly. But not long after she realized that there was a long queue outside Colin's pharmacy.

They both sighed.

"Tell you what. Just drop me off at Andre's, till this row clears out" Maddox suggested.  
"It's a little late for friendly visits, dad"  
"Eh, Dre'll be fine. He lives alone, remember? Besides, I promised him a chess session last Saturday"  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yeah"  
"Okay then"

She swiftly turned on the engine, made a U around a roundabout and headed to St. Matthew lane, up north, to Westchester suburbia.

The street looked calm, but not very lonely. Several people walked their dogs around the sidewalk. Wind probably took itself down a notch.

She parked sideways across the street and stared out the window till she could see his dad get inside the house. As he did so, she didn't take a minute longer to take out her phone and dial a number.

"It's me. Are you free right now?"  
"Why, yes" said another voice on the other side.  
"I'm coming over."

Mark felt scared. Very, scared. He hadn't been alone in a house before. It'd been an hour since his dad had left, without telling him where he was going.

He looked around, lights were off in most of the rooms, making it scarier for him.

Mark took inhaled as deep as his lungs could take the air in and exhaled slowly.

Then, within a minute he ran around the entire mansion, turning every light on. Restrooms, dressing rooms, library, backyard, bedrooms, halls, kitchen, lounges – everywhere except the garage, which was very off-limit for him. When he finally finished, he went back to his room and sat upright on his bed. He looked out in the balcony –door open ajar, that he obviously forgot to close. But, even then, it was too scary for him to go out there in cold and lock the door.

He sighed in exasperation. His throat was dry, but he couldn't summon the strength to go back in the kitchen for a glass of water.

After a while, he slowly swayed his blanket and wrapped it around his head, covering the rest of his tiny body, as he waited for any one of his folks to get back home.

Veronica gulped. There was a huge lump in the middle of her throat. Not that kind of lump you feel when you cry – but that lump of anticipation. She had driven up to East Richmond St.; not a very safe neighborhood. Theft and breaking in was usually reported here every month, and she wondered why did her certain friend decided to live anywhere _but here_.

She got out of her car, making sure it was properly locked and if she had turned the theft alarm on. Slowly walking up her friend's driveway, she made it to the front porch and rang the doorbell.

Nobody answered for a couple of minutes. She tried to get a grip on the doorknob, to see if it's unlock but her attempts went berserk.

Though Veronica had a nagging feeling. That pit in her stomach, telling her that maybe she was being followed.

A couple of bushes flew from the wind. She turned back to see if it was something else.

Maybe just wind, she thought.

She rang the doorbell again.

Another series of noise behind the bushes, she turned to check again, hoping to find this mysterious host, who was clearly try to scare her away, perhaps a kid from neighborhood. This was gradually getting irksome for her. She took a step forward to duck her head sideways.

A hand approached her shoulder and she jumped. Gulping slowly, she turned around to see who it was. Probably the same person who was trying to scare her away in the first place – and at this thought, her anger rose. Wasn't it too late for _anyone_ to pull a practical joke?

Hopefully, It was Augusta.

Sighing, Victoria threw her arms around her friend and kissed her lips, passionately. "I missed you" she said, pulling away. "—And scaring me? That wasn't very funny."


End file.
